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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25359994">eye of a hurricane</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/civillove/pseuds/civillove'>civillove</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>seblaine week 2k20 [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Glee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:27:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,617</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25359994</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/civillove/pseuds/civillove</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>seblaine week 2020 - friends with benefits. aka a zombie Apocalypse that no one asked for <br/>--<br/>This is not who Blaine thought he’d be.</p>
<p>He pictured coming to New York with his boyfriend, getting a singing part on Broadway, maybe working a dead-end job at a bar a few nights in a row to make some extra cash and finally getting an apartment that didn’t feel like a shoebox when he came home late at night.</p>
<p>He knows people say that things can change in the blink of an eye but he doesn’t expect they mean this; the complete destruction and downfall of civilization within twenty-four hours. One case turns into ten, turns into a hundred, turns into four thousand and that’s when Blaine stops watching the news.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Blaine Anderson/Sebastian Smythe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>seblaine week 2k20 [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1827478</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Seblaine Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>eye of a hurricane</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Notes: lots of angst, minor character deaths, but ends decent, promise lol<br/>Notes 2: this fic has two different timelines going on, separated by this symbol:  --. It should be pretty obvious, but just in case it’s not ;)<br/>Notes 3: lots of inspiration from The Walking Dead and Fear the Walking Dead, so you can picture that universe if you want. </p>
<p>Trigger Warnings: suicide, graphic descriptions of blood and violence, Santana is a minor character (nothing tragic happens to her in this fic) but just in case, I figured I’d mention she’s in this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p>This is not who Blaine thought he’d be.</p>
<p>He pictured coming to New York with his boyfriend, getting a singing part on Broadway, maybe working a dead-end job at a bar a few nights in a row to make some extra cash and finally getting an apartment that didn’t feel like a shoebox when he came home late at night.</p>
<p>He knows people say that things can change in the blink of an eye but he doesn’t expect they mean this; the complete destruction and downfall of civilization within twenty-four hours. One case turns into ten, turns into a hundred, turns into four thousand and that’s when Blaine stops watching the news.</p>
<p>It’s bad and despite the hopeful conversation clusters that have fail-safes in place, he doesn’t think things are going to get better. And he’s always considered himself an optimist—but sometimes that means accepting the situation at hand and not hoping for a better one.</p>
<p>Hope can get you killed.</p>
<p>He stops being hopeful the moment he comes home and there’s blood all over his kitchen from Kurt taking his own life, sitting in a puddle of maroon and cake mix because apparently he was baking. Like a cake would somehow soften the blow to the fact that he’s left Blaine all alone.</p>
<p>He remembers staring at him, sinking onto the floor but…not really crying, more like in a daze because <em>now what </em>kept flashing over and over again in his mind. What comes next consistently seeming to surprise him even though he’s thought about it every night since it happened, the memory somehow always on the outskirts of his mind, waiting to become a nightmare.</p>
<p>Blaine’s packing a bag, shoving anything he can carry with him even though he has the distinct feeling that it won’t matter in a week’s time. Everything is capable of shifting under his feet like quicksand and whatever he’s about to get into when he leaves his apartment, he won’t be ready for.</p>
<p>He pauses when he hears something gurgling, a guttural noise that shoots straight into his stomach and he remembers feeling so <em>stupid </em>because—</p>
<p>Kurt attacks him from behind, reanimated, pale and cold. There’s blood all over him, mixed with chocolate cake batter that stains his clothes. He remembers getting pummeled into the ground and <em>scrambling, </em>trying to kick Kurt off and keep his teeth from tearing into his shoulder.</p>
<p>He stabs him through the eye with a pair of scissors, successfully able to throw him off at that point. Because he’s dead for good this time, or whatever the fuck that means anymore.</p>
<p>Blaine knows now that being dead doesn’t always mean you’ve lost your pulse—it’s a stance, a sense of wandering, of not knowing where you belong, of finding yourself indifferent to the crumbling world around you.</p>
<p>He sits there with Kurt’s body and stares at his own hands—they don’t feel like his fingertips or palms for a long time. He has to <em>go, </em>he can’t stay there, he’s gotta find somewhere safer that’s out of the city. Rural areas have to be better, less people, wide open land to see things coming before they happen.</p>
<p>He spoke to his brother and parents a month ago but can’t get ahold of them now, not that he’s about to somehow trek it to California—it’s out of the question.</p>
<p>He’s alone but Blaine has no choice but to keep moving forward.</p>
<p>And he does.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>This is not where Blaine thought he’d end up.</p>
<p>He turns in bed and sits up, throwing his legs over the edge. A yawn sneaks out of his lips as he runs his fingers through his curls, turning to look over his shoulder at Sebastian who’s still sleeping—arm stretched across the divide in search for him.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>He remembers walking for a long time, into upstate New York trying to find a place that wasn’t overrun. He makes temporary homes out of gas stations, grocery storage closets, sections of woods that feel secure and the back of abandoned cars.</p>
<p>He never attempts to live in someone else’s house. Blaine will make supply runs, take anything he can get his hands on that hasn’t expired, but he never sleeps on another person’s couch or sinks between someone else’s sheets. He’s still at a point where it feels too morbid, too wrong to take a home’s memory and twist it under his manipulation.</p>
<p>Sometimes he thinks that if he leaves a house just right, it feels like he was just visiting, like the owners will be back before he knows it to find he’s taken some canned peaches and bottles of Gatorade.</p>
<p>It’s something that sticks with him for a long time, a comforting security blanket that’s eventually destroyed.</p>
<p>Blaine makes the mistake of taking a stretch of road where he runs out of gas from a car he’s hotwired and is left to roam—which wouldn’t be a big deal, except, there’s no houses for miles. He runs out of food, out of water and he moves until he’s pretty sure his feet are bleeding in his shoes.</p>
<p>He remembers collapsing, but not passing out.</p>
<p>When he wakes up he feels half dead, is wondering if this is what it’s like to transition into something that stumbles and tears at flesh with teeth. But there’s still a pulse in his neck even though it feels faint; he’s dizzy from being dehydrated and his stomach feels like it’s eating itself.</p>
<p>And he’s handcuffed to what feels like a hospital cot in a tent.</p>
<p>He licks his lips and sits up, his gaze roaming over to a tall, lanky form who’s leaning over another cot across from him. He’s talking gently to whoever’s in the bed, an older woman who looks just as bad as he feels.</p>
<p>
  <em>What? </em>
</p>
<p>It’s as if he says the word outloud because a pair of green eyes fall on him, softening as he sees he’s awake and walks over with a bottle of water. “Looks like you’re not dead after all.”</p>
<p>“Why am I handcuffed?” He asks but his voice is raw and he almost instantly begins coughing.</p>
<p>Gently pouring water into his mouth, he takes a seat next to him. Blaine leans his head back, feeling automatically refreshed, breathing easily as he settles into the cot underneath him. “When we were out on a supply run we found you on the road. Santana was pretty sure you were dead even though I felt a pulse so,” He motions to the handcuffs with his chin, “Can’t be too careful these days.”</p>
<p>Blaine blinks, shaking his head at him because he knows he’s saying words in an order that make sense but confusion is heavily clouding his judgement. “Can you take them off?”</p>
<p>The other male hums and digs into his pocket, pulling out a key to finally undo the cuffs on both his wrists. Blaine rubs at his raw skin, sitting up when he’s finally able to do so. The world spins beneath him and he feels a hand on his shoulder, steadying him.</p>
<p>“Easy,” He says, squeezing, “Even with the IV we gave you, you’re still a little worse for wear.”</p>
<p>“Where am I?” Blaine takes the water bottle from him and takes a few greedy sips, his thumb digging into one of his eyes as he closes them to remove the black pin-pricks that keep popping up.</p>
<p>“You’re on my family estate. I guess technically it’s a farm but,” He shrugs his one shoulder.</p>
<p>The sound of coughing draws their attention and the taller stands, reaching into a cabinet near Blaine’s cot to grab another bottle of water. He watches him cross the room and hand it to the woman he was speaking to before—they hold an exchange that he can’t hear, but he watches as she smiles and reaches out for the other’s wrist. His hand comes down to squeeze her fingertips before pulling away, finding his way back to Blaine.</p>
<p>“Are you a doctor?”</p>
<p>The comment is funny to him, a short chuckle leaving his throat as he takes a seat again. “God no, but I picked up a few things from a guy who used to live here that was.”</p>
<p><em>Used to live here, </em>Blaine doesn’t ask what happened to him; he figures he might already know.</p>
<p>He runs his thumb along the water bottle settled between his legs; there’s a headache pounding between his temples and part of him wants nothing more than to sleep. He doesn’t know if that’s an option while he’s here…it’s been a while since he’s been around people. He’s learned that out there, it’s not always the dead that you have to worry about.</p>
<p>Blaine’s seen the cruelty of the living and sometimes he thinks it’s <em>worse </em>to be alive. This estate or farm or wherever the hell he is…he doesn’t know if he can trust them, he doesn’t know if he can stay here.</p>
<p>Seeming to sense the conversation he’s having within his head, “I’m Sebastian and you don’t have to worry about leaving. There’s a whole community of people that wandered in when all this started, my parents…” He trails off a moment and Blaine seems to sense that they’re not around anymore.</p>
<p>Empathy pulls at strings inside his body, old emotions and feelings bubbling to the surface at the tug of war on Sebastian’s face—like he doesn’t want to seem weak in front of the other but that he wants to share his pain because he’ll be buried underneath it if he doesn’t.</p>
<p>He clears his throat, “You’re safe here.”</p>
<p>Blaine scoffs even though he doesn’t mean to. “Nowhere is safe anymore.”</p>
<p>A smile tugs at the other’s lips and it’s in that exact same moment that Blaine realizes how <em>handsome </em>the other is, green eyes the color of moss, a bone structure that makes his cheekbones sharp and the softest hint of stubble on his jawline. He’s got great hands, long fingers that fiddle with the handcuffs still attached to the cot. He wonders if he plays piano, would seem like a waste if he didn’t.</p>
<p>“Well,” He stands again, clasping his hands together. The rolled-up sleeves of his button down exposes the muscles of his forearms and Blaine decidedly does <em>not </em>think about it, taking another sip of water instead to cool himself down.</p>
<p>“Let me know if that's still what you think after a few days.”</p>
<p>Blaine’s eyes follow the long lines of his back until he disappears out of the tent.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>“Leaving already?” Sebastian asks, voice streaked with sleep as Blaine gets up out of bed. He finds his jeans on the ground and tugs them on, buttoning them before he begins the hunt for his shirt.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I’m supposed to be on breakfast duty today.” He mumbles, pointedly not looking at the other man in bed—because if he’s met with him lying there, one arm tucked under his head, hair a little messy from sleeping…he might not leave.</p>
<p>And he has to go.</p>
<p>“Well, lucky for you, you’re sleeping with the one calling the shots.” Sebastian sighs out a sound and Blaine can hear him moving to sit up against the headboard as he finds his shirt and yanks it over his head. “I can get someone to cover for you.”</p>
<p>A soft smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he sits at the desk chair, pulling his boots on to tie them. “Just what the community needs, you playin’ favorites.”</p>
<p>Sebastian tilts his head when he finally looks at him, green eyes soft as they glide over Blaine’s body like his hands do sometimes. “But I do…and I think it’s probably too late for that.”</p>
<p>That’s what he’s afraid of.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>The farm has a lot of acres, at least, that’s what Blaine can tell when he decides to take Sebastian up on his offer to explore. He spends the night in that cot, contemplating his choices but when he’s brought a plate of food and his stomach rumbles considerably loud—he figures that’s all the answer he needs.</p>
<p>He really has nothing to run away to, no one who’s worried about him. Outside this estate he almost died—has no food or water or shelter to speak of. Now he’s in a cot, hydrated, eating dinner off a <em>plate</em>, something he hasn’t had the pleasure of doing in the past month.</p>
<p>Blaine changes into a pair of clothes given to him, something simple, a pair of jeans that surprisingly fit and a white t-shirt, tugging his boots on to walk outside the tent. He comes across other tents, a deep well, a few houses and barns on the property that have impressive storage facilities. He stops to talk to a few cows and horses because why not? Sometimes he’d like talking to animals more compared to people, but that seems especially true now.</p>
<p>Animals he can trust, he’s still not sure about the human part yet.</p>
<p>There’s not a lot of people that fill up the complex, maybe fifty? No one speaks to him, no one tries to figure out who he is or what he’s doing there—they just figure he belongs, a dangerous proposition.</p>
<p>He doesn’t see Sebastian on his walks, though he supposes if he’s running this place he’s busy holding everything together. At this point he’s still deciding whether he’s going to stay or not, so maybe it’s better not to run into him. He knows that he thinks this place is some sort of God’s gift during this pandemic but if New York can fall within a day, it means that <em>nowhere </em>is safe from the same thing happening.</p>
<p>All it takes is one person becoming infected, one person deciding they don’t like how the rest of the community is living or for them not to appreciate Sebastian as a leader, one person to steal a portion of food or get too greedy about water—</p>
<p>It’s all a matter of time and Blaine isn’t sure he wants to stick around for that.</p>
<p>He wanders into one of the food tents; it’s near lunch time but he notices a large thermos of coffee that’s probably still hot from when breakfast was being served. He reaches for a tin mug and begins filling it up, taking a deep breath into his lungs—</p>
<p>And apparently his frayed nerves aren’t a thing of the past because he jumps back when a hand touches his waist.</p>
<p>“Son of a bitch.” He snaps as coffee spills from the cup and onto his white shirt. He hisses slightly, looking up at…Sebastian, of course it’s him, with a semi-murderous glare. “Jesus, what the fuck.”</p>
<p>The taller has the nerve to look a little amused as he puts both his hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you’d be so jumpy. I was just going to ask how you’re settling in.”</p>
<p>Sebastian bends to pick up the mug and sets it on the counter, reaching for another to fill up with coffee as Blaine grabs nearby napkins to try and salvage his shirt even though he knows it’s too late for that. He sighs and tosses them into a nearby trashcan, taking the mug from Sebastian when he hands it to him.</p>
<p>“I’m doing great, clearly.”</p>
<p>He smiles and rubs the back of his neck, “Sorry,” He repeats. “Something on your mind?”</p>
<p>Blaine opens his mouth to comment ‘no’, because the last thing he wants to admit is that he was thinking about how all of this could crumble with the smallest disruption. Though there’s this thing about Sebastian that when he looks at him, he feels like he can read his thoughts as if the words are printed on his face.</p>
<p>“Maybe he’s thinkin’ about how he should thank you for savin’ his life.” A feisty woman slips in beside Sebastian, giving him this <em>look </em>that could shrivel even the strongest of men. He raises an eyebrow at her and Sebastian sighs as she reaches for a mug for coffee.</p>
<p>“Leave him alone, Santana.” He says, almost tired sounding.</p>
<p>“What?” She asks innocently, even though it’s nowhere near that. “It’s just a suggestion.”</p>
<p>She stirs too much sugar into her mug and sits down at a nearby table, watching them with an intensity that makes it feel like there’s bugs crawling underneath his skin. Blaine lets out a slow breath and takes his mug, turning to leave the tent. He’s getting used to drinking his coffee black since the prospect of milk in this world like feels like a thing of memory. He knows there’s cows on the property but sometimes it seems weird to indulge—the normalcy can be taken from him just as quickly.</p>
<p>He can hear Sebastian follow him out, gently catching his elbow to stop him a few feet away. At least he doesn’t jump this time, turning to face him with an expectant look.</p>
<p>“Don’t let her bother you,” Sebastian tilts his head a little, glancing back at Santana before rolling his eyes. “She’s just protective. I’ve known her since we were kids.”</p>
<p>“No, your girlfriend is right. I uh, I never really thanked you for…saving my life.” He runs a hand through his curls, scrubbing at his scalp.</p>
<p>Sebastian laughs quite suddenly even though Blaine doesn’t understand what he’s said that was funny. He then schools his expression because, “Oh you’re not kidding,” He shakes his head, taking a breath, “Santana isn’t my girlfriend. She’s not even in the same wheelhouse of what I’m interested in.”</p>
<p>Blaine’s mouth opens a little because <em>oh, oops. </em>He feels his cheeks kiss pink, blotching down the back of his neck. He smiles, can’t help it, the corners of Sebastian’s mouth matching. “That’s what I get for assuming.”</p>
<p>“Could be worse, you could <em>also</em> be covered in coffee…” He trails off, licking his lips as he teases, “Guess you got that goin’ for you too.”</p>
<p>“Cute,” Blaine tips his mug at him in a ‘cheering’ motion before he takes another sip. “I mean it though, thank you. I’d probably be dead already if it weren’t for you.”</p>
<p>Sebastian hums, sticking his hands in his pockets. He’s in a pair of blue jeans today and a gray t-shirt covered with a green flannel that only highlights the color of his eyes. “I’m sure we can find a way for you to make it up to me.”</p>
<p>He attempts to squash the butterflies working their way up his stomach and into his throat but can’t quite get a handle on it. He clears his throat, allowing himself the smallest of smiles instead.</p>
<p>“Always ready to support another cause.” Blaine says even though it feels sour in his mouth.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Blaine rests his elbows on his knees for a moment, leaning forward as Sebastian finally pulls himself from bed. “I’m not sure we should…do this anymore.”</p>
<p>A soft laugh tugs the corners of Sebastian’s lips up because of course he doesn’t believe him—though he’s not quite sure he can blame him. He pulls a shirt on himself and wanders to a small table that has a bucket of water on the floor. Sebastian picks it up and pours it into a medium bowl, dipping a washcloth to wash his face.</p>
<p>Blaine takes in a soft breath, “I’m serious.”</p>
<p>There’s a rigid line that works up Sebastian’s spine like a steel rod replacing his bones, “How many times are you going to try and call this off?” He looks at him through the small mirror.</p>
<p>He runs a hand over his face and tugs at his curls in frustration because <em>at least one more. </em></p>
<p>“You’re the one who keeps crawling into <em>my </em>bed, Anderson.”</p>
<p>And he supposes he’s not wrong there.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Blaine settles in the best way that he can, he stops fighting it so hard; he adapts. The good thing is that a lot of duties need done; he helps tend to cows and horses, he cooks, he does inventory, takes watch at the fence, everything that’s able to distract him he tries at least once. He makes a lot of new acquaintances, mostly females but there’s this one guy that has floppy blonde hair and is somehow always smiling despite how dire the situation might be.</p>
<p>His name is Sam and he’s gone on a few supplies run with him even when Sebastian wouldn’t let him go at first.</p>
<p>
  <em>“You can’t tell me I can’t go, you barely have any volunteers,” He argues with him in his loft one night. Sebastian has let a few older couples take over his parent’s house because of course he does and now he’s in a spacious space above a barn. He doesn’t seem very bothered by it even though Blaine doesn’t enjoy the scent of hay that sometimes wafts to the surface. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Actually, I can tell you whatever the fuck I want,” Sebastian insists, sitting at his desk and not looking at him. “Who’s running this ranch, Blaine?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He scoffs, that air of superiority digging under his skin, “Who’s supposed to go? You?” He raises an eyebrow because they both know the people of this community won’t let Sebastian risk his life. “I’ve been out in it before. These people…they’ve been living behind these gates without a clue of how much the world has fallen apart. They don’t stand a chance.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“You’ve been out in it before? Is that what you meant by nearly dying on the side of the road?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>A muscle in Blaine’s jaw works as he bites the inside of his cheek. “That is not the same thing and you know it.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>So he picks a different direction, “Can you fire a gun?” Sebastian turns, pressing with an insist look that makes Blaine’s gaze slip from his. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I’m good with a knife, it’s better to get closer than fire from far away. The noise attracts them.” He tries to argue but Sebastian’s not hearing it. “You can’t stop me from going.” He stands and picks up his pack from where he’s dropped it. He’s done having this conversation with him. </em>
</p>
<p>So he goes and he comes back successful. Blaine has to admit that he enjoys proving Sebastian wrong and finally, he yields to the idea, not picking a fight with him about it anymore.</p>
<p>He goes out on runs over and over again until Sebastian insists on going with him one time, trying to make a point that leaders should also risk themselves for the greater good. It’s him, Sebastian, Sam, and a few others heading out to look for medicine to keep their supply in good standing.</p>
<p>Blaine likes Sam right up until the moment he dies.</p>
<p>They hit a pharmacy that hasn’t been completely overturned. The inside of the store smells like spoiled milk and mold and they make quick work of behind the counters, dragging anything that’s in a pill bottle into their packs. They can sort it when they’re safe at the ranch.</p>
<p>Sam’s right outside the glass box, holding a gun and waiting, keeping an eye on the store as Blaine and Sebastian fill the bags. He holds up a facemask with a quirk of his eyebrow, “Do we really need stuff like this?”</p>
<p>There’s a hint of a smile to Sebastian’s lips, “Yeah, you never know what we might need. Besides, it’s there in case you want to carry out any of those nurse fantasies I know you have.”</p>
<p>Blaine snorts and shoves the mask into his bag, mumbling ‘asshole’ under his breath before he stands to check another row.</p>
<p>A piercing <em>yell </em>grabs both of their attention and Blaine doesn’t think, he moves, running past Sebastian to where the sound is coming from. He throws the door open, unsheathing his knife from his belt and—</p>
<p>It’s Sam, one of those things caught him off guard from behind and is—</p>
<p>There’s a strong scent of blood in the air, metallic and warm. It burns his nostrils.</p>
<p>He goes to move forward but an arm comes around his waist, stopping him and pulling him back. Sebastian drops his bag, pill bottles tumbling out everywhere as he tries to get a better hold on Blaine.</p>
<p>“Let me go!” He snaps, wriggling within his touch, Sam’s cries and pleas loud enough to make his eardrums crack. “I can still—”</p>
<p>“Stop,” Sebastian says in his ear, voice soft but firm. “There’s nothing you can do, it’s too late. Stop.”</p>
<p>Blaine struggles, his breathing heavy as Sam’s screams become a gargled mess of blood and hopelessness. He sags back against Sebastian’s chest, his arms the only thing holding him up as his knife clatters to the ground.</p>
<p>There’s a pathetic wail, a choked noise mixed between a gasp and whining. It’s not until Sebastian shushes him gently he realizes <em>he’s </em>the one making the sound. They drop to the floor because Blaine’s knees give out and Sebastian doesn’t attempt to keep him upright. One quick glance across the store and…they still got some time, that <em>thing </em>is still eating Sam, they’re not noticed yet.</p>
<p>But they don’t have all day.</p>
<p>“Look at me,” Sebastian whispers, roughly grabbing his chin and not giving him a choice. “We have to go, okay? We have to <em>go.” </em></p>
<p>He nods and hates the way his breath stutters as Sebastian hauls him up off the floor. They grab their bags and make it out to the truck, Blaine turning at the last moment to shove his knife through the thing’s head.</p>
<p>The satisfying <em>crunch </em>settles in his bones on the way home.</p>
<p>Blaine remembers staring at himself for a long time in the mirror near his bed but not recognizing his reflection. He’s not skinny, it’s not really about his physicality but he’s got a beard now, longer curls but…it’s not about that.</p>
<p>His eyes are different, heavier somehow, a darker caramel than he thought possible. He shaves his face because that feels like something he can do.</p>
<p>He passes a shooting range on his way and sees Sebastian firing at a target; he notices the way he holds himself, utterly confident, the weapon an extension of him. He’s comfortable that when he pulls the trigger that the bullet will go exactly where he intends.</p>
<p>Blaine stops in his tracks, dirt settling around his ankles as he notices people ahead of him at the food tent. They’re crying and hugging one another; women he’s seen with Sam before, a guy called Jake looking utterly devasted. He was pretty sure they had a thing going on but he never pried; the gentle smiles and secret touches were there for anyone who cared to notice.</p>
<p>He can’t go over there.</p>
<p>He swallows and turns on his heel, walking through the grass to where Sebastian is. He’s in a gray t-shirt, the fabric hugging his long body as he concentrates on the human-outlined target in front of him. He fires two shots and Blaine raises an eyebrow as he not only gets it in the target but pretty much right in the center.</p>
<p>“Are you secretly a hitman?”</p>
<p>Sebastian smiles a little and lowers the gun, shaking his head, “No. But then again if I was, I guess I wouldn’t tell you,” He turns, eyes trailing over Blaine’s face a moment. “You shaved.”</p>
<p>He clears his throat and runs a hand over the lower half of his face. “Yeah, just. Needed a change.” Blaine bites his tongue, hard, on asking him whether he likes it or not.</p>
<p>The taller takes a step forward, his hand lifting as if he’s going to touch him but then decides not to. He motions to his hair, “Keep those though, yeah? Curls suit you.”</p>
<p>Blaine’s not sure what it <em>is </em>about Sebastian but he always makes him feel self-conscious, like he’s back in high school and a hot guy is hitting on him. That blushing schoolboy crush coming back with an utter vengeance as he struggles to maintain his concentration.</p>
<p>“Show me?” He says quickly, trying to take the attention off himself though this probably isn’t the best idea to do so. Sebastian’s eyes will be all over him if he’s teaching him how to shoot a gun.</p>
<p>But after what happened with Sam…</p>
<p>Sebastian seems to be on the same wavelength, nodding softly as he hands the gun over to Blaine, moving so he can take his place where he was standing. The metal is warm and heavy between his fingertips. Almost instantly he doesn’t want to do this, the sensation foreign and uncomfortable as he lifts to aim.</p>
<p>“Relax.” Sebastian says after a moment, voice coming from behind him. His hands settle on his waist before lifting to reposition the gun. “You’re too tense.”</p>
<p>“Think that’s just because you’re smack up against me.”</p>
<p>Sebastian smirks, breath hot in his ear as he speaks. “If I wasn’t helping you aim, you’d be shooting a poor unsuspecting squirrel in a tree to your left.”</p>
<p>He frowns and tilts his head a little because really? Is he that off? “Where did you learn to shoot?”</p>
<p>“My dad taught me,” He squeezes his wrist, his thumb moving Blaine’s so it’s more on the trigger. “You can’t be afraid to pull,” Sebastian takes a step to the side, but his one hand never leaves his waist, “You gotta commit, move your thumb over the entire trigger.”</p>
<p>He nods and allows him to also press a few insistent fingers against his hip, “Spread your legs a little.”</p>
<p>And this continues to be a <em>bad </em>idea. Blaine rolls his eyes a little at the smirk he can hear on Sebastian’s tongue but focuses on the target ahead of him. “Can I shoot or you just gonna fondle me the whole time?”</p>
<p>“Why can’t we multi-task?” He asks but then lets his hands fall. “Okay, try not to hold your breath when you shoot and keep your eyes open.”</p>
<p>Blaine nods, images of Sam and that thing tearing through his neck when he fires not once but three times in a row. The sound echoes into the air and the adrenaline makes him so dizzy that he can’t see for a moment, the ground swaying underneath him. He has no idea whether he’s even hit the target.</p>
<p>He takes a step closer and tilts his head, Sebastian making a soft noise of approval behind him. He’s hit the target, one of his bullets a clear shot through the head even though it’s off centered by the ear.</p>
<p>“You’re a natural, with some practice—”</p>
<p>“<em>Sebastian!” </em></p>
<p>Blaine turns quickly to see Santana stalking towards them both, her eyes wild and hair blowing in the wind. She looks like some sort of twisted version of medusa and it’s not until she gets closer that he can see tear tracks on her cheeks. He doesn’t know her very well, even after all this time, but she seems like the type that’s cut out of stone. She doesn’t wear her heart on her sleeve, she makes comments consistently that lend to the idea that she can’t stand anyone other than Sebastian and works hard on making him miserable. She doesn’t like Blaine, which is fine, he’s not exactly fond of her either—but both of them tolerate the other because they have one person in common.</p>
<p>That same person who she’s rushing at, her hand coming up and <em>slapping </em>him across the face as soon as she’s close enough. Sebastian’s head tilts to the side with the force of it and he lets out a short breath through his nose, looking at her with darkened eyes as he catches her wrist before she can throw another. He’s considerably taller than her, which helps, and Blaine puts the gun down on a nearby wooden bench as he watches the interaction.</p>
<p>“Why didn’t you tell me?” She spits, “Sam is <em>dead </em>and you didn’t tell me. You came back and didn’t say <em>two words to me.” </em></p>
<p>Santana, who walks around this place like she could give a shit about anything or anyone, sounds like she’s about to break in half from the force of her strangled words. Blaine knows that they’re close, that they depend on one another, that Santana is Sebastian’s right hand but he didn’t suspect…<em>this. </em></p>
<p>“Santana,” Sebastian says, his voice incredibly soft and filled with empathy that digs right into his chest cavity.</p>
<p>That’s not what she wants to hear and she tries to wrestle from his grip. “Oh fuck off,” She snaps but her breathing is labored, hiccupping out of her lungs as tears start to slip from her eyes, “You fucking asshole, you went out there when you know you shouldn’t. For what? What if that had been <em>you?” </em>And there it is, that’s what she’s really upset about.</p>
<p>Blaine swallows, shifting on his feet as Sebastian gathers her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her despite the fact that she’s trying to hit him with her fists. He squeezes, hard, and waits for her to relax, his fingers raking through her hair with a calmed patience Blaine didn’t know he was capable of.</p>
<p>“Shh, come on, breathe. Settle down.” He says, one of his hands cupping the back of her head in order to keep her close. Santana sobs, her face turning into his shoulder as she continuously calls him a fucking idiot along with a bunch of other variations, her hands gathering up his shirt until her knuckles turn white.</p>
<p>He dips his head, turning away from them and starts to walk back to where he sleeps—he feels like he’s intruding on something too private.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Blaine stands from the desk chair, moving to a set of windows near Sebastian’s bed. He listens to the water trickle from the washcloth, closes his eyes a moment as he tries to think. There’s too much talk going on inside, it’s never silent, he doesn’t know what he wants.</p>
<p>“I’m not saying we should stop having sex,” His eyes open to glance outside, to follow the long stretch of the horizon as people start to wake in the community. From up here, it almost feels normal, like the world isn’t going to hell outside this ranch. “I just think we should…make sure we know where this is going.”</p>
<p>Sebastian scoffs and puts the washcloth down, running his fingers through his hair and nearly slicking the strands back. Some pop out and hang low over his forehead—he needs a haircut. “Where’s it going? Because right now I don’t know whether you want me to kick you out or pull you back into bed. I like sex as much as the next person, but you’re not gonna use me to feel better about what’s goin’ on out there.”</p>
<p>That’s a low blow but he’s upset him and Sebastian is more than capable of telling someone straight, at getting to the core of an issue, at being unforgiving—it’s what makes him a good leader.</p>
<p>“I don’t want to lose you,” Blaine says suddenly, the words somehow echoing against the wooden walls of the barn, “I can’t.”</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>A knock on his door rouses him from sleep—at first he thinks he might be imagining it, lying in bed with an arm over his face as he just listens. It happens again but this time it’s more insistent and heavier and Blaine finally throws the sheets aside to crawl out of bed.</p>
<p>He supposes he rarely gets a real night of sleep anymore anyways, always ready for something terrible to happen. To roll over, grab his knife and <em>run—</em>he practically had to talk himself out of sleeping with his boots on.</p>
<p>Blaine rubs sleep from his eyes and yawns, massaging the back of his neck as he opens the door and…</p>
<p>“Sebastian,” He clears his throat and leans against the doorframe, eyes drawing over the taller’s form. The dark jeans hug him well, a black t-shirt covered with a blue jean jacket. He thinks about the skin underneath that and whether it’s modestly covered with beauty marks.</p>
<p>He shakes the thought out of his head and knows he hasn’t gotten enough sleep if that’s something rapturing his attention.</p>
<p>“Everything okay?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, just wanted to see you,” He clears his throat, taking a step closer, “You’re sleeping the day away.”</p>
<p>Blaine runs a hand over his messy curls, holding the door open for Sebastian to come inside. It’s pointless to crawl back into bed, he’s up now. He sits down to pull his boots on, “I was on one of the night shifts keeping an eye on the fence,” He looks up at him, “Just went to sleep a few hours ago.”</p>
<p>“I thought I told you it’d be better if you didn’t take the fence at night.”</p>
<p>He leans his elbows onto his knees and sighs, his fingers dangling together between his legs, “And I thought I told you it’s kinda pointless to tell me what to do.” He stands and grabs a black jean jacket from the back of a chair. “Did you need something?”</p>
<p>Sebastian clicks his tongue off the roof of his mouth before he decides not to argue with him, steering the conversation to another destination. “I wanted to take you somewhere. Won’t be too long,” He inclines his head out the door and Blaine follows him out.</p>
<p>“Not off property, is it? Santana might kill you.”</p>
<p>The taller smirks and shakes his head, making his way towards the right of the community, which mostly leads to open fields. “No, it’s at the back of the estate, wooded area. Not too much of a hike.”</p>
<p>He hums softly as they begin walking and he sticks his hands in his pockets, “How is she?” He asks after a few moments, hoping he’s not crossing an imaginary line.</p>
<p>Sebastian considers the question, biting on the tip of his tongue as he figures out whether he wants to answer it or not. Blaine allows the silence, listening to the sounds of nature as they walk towards the end of the ranch.</p>
<p>“Her being upset really doesn’t have anything to do with Sam, she’s selfish like that.” He jokes but Blaine can see right through it, the defense mechanism transparent. He clears his throat, “She lost her girlfriend a couple months ago and she didn’t really <em>care </em>about Sam but he…he was a part of the community, you know? A friendly face.”</p>
<p>Blaine nods softly but remains silent, letting his gaze stretch across the open fields to the cloud pattern in front of them, trying to make shapes out of the fluffy white.</p>
<p>“We’re uh, we were all one another had for a long time, she doesn’t want to lose that.”</p>
<p>Maybe him and Santana are more alike than he originally thought and Blaine turns to offer a small smile that doesn’t feel genuine, bumping their shoulders best he can despite the height difference.</p>
<p>“Tin-woman has a heart, huh?”</p>
<p>Sebastian laughs softly, “Yeah, small thing is in there somewhere.”</p>
<p>“She loves you,” Blaine says after a moment because it feels important to say, in this day and age, stuff like that matters. Stuff like that will either keep you alive or get you killed.</p>
<p>The words rest between them and for a long minute Sebastian doesn’t say anything before he turns to look at him with a gentle smirk, “I’m sure she’s not the only one, I’m very loveable.”</p>
<p>Blaine scoffs out a noise that says he doesn’t quite believe him but doesn’t grace him with a reply. He follows him through a clearing until they come upon a small pond, there was a fountain at one point but it’s not running anymore, overgrown with moss and ivy. Somehow, Blaine finds it more beautiful this way.</p>
<p>He settles on a nearby rock formation, watching Sebastian pick up a pebble to toss into the water. Blaine breathes in deep, the smell of leaves and earth filling his senses, the tree canopy blocking out the heat of the sun and nearly making it cool. He’s glad he decided to bring his jean jacket along.</p>
<p>Sebastian doesn’t have to say anything for Blaine to understand that this place is special, that he’s brought him here for a reason, that there’s a memory here that doesn’t belong to him.</p>
<p>“Where’s your family?” Sebastian asks, probably because he’s thinking about his own and turns to look at him over his shoulder as he picks up a few pebbles.</p>
<p>He’s almost not prepared for the question and then it <em>startles </em>him because…because he hasn’t thought about them in almost a month. Blaine swallows down a sudden bout of guilt because, that’s terrible isn’t it? That he hasn’t thought about them? That he hasn’t tried to contact them or think about if they’ve tried to reach him, only get no reply back?</p>
<p>It makes his chest hurt, “I dunno,” He says honestly, “I was alone when you found me for a reason.”</p>
<p>Sebastian nods softly and tosses a few rocks, a <em>plip </em>sounding from the water every time he does so. There are words bubbling up his throat, things he doesn’t want to say but there’s something about the scenery, about the softness of Sebastian’s shoulders in that jean jacket, the water echoing like raindrops—</p>
<p>“I killed my boyfriend.” And has no idea why he says it.</p>
<p>He doesn’t know how he expects Sebastian to look at him but it’s not like <em>that. </em>He wants him to be angry with him, or afraid maybe, to push him away so that he remembers relationships don’t fit in a world like this. But the taller turns and watches him carefully, handing over a few pebbles; their fingers brushing.</p>
<p>He understands without having to ask.</p>
<p>“I mean I…I killed him the second time,” He says and stands from the rocks to toss his pebbles in. “He cut his wrists with a cake knife,” And laughs even though he doesn’t mean to, a nervous chuckle that leaves his throat. He shakes his head, “Baked me a fucking cake.”</p>
<p>Sebastian raises an eyebrow and watches him throw into the pond. “What was the flavor?”</p>
<p>“Chocolate.”</p>
<p>And he’s suddenly overwhelmed with how much he misses his old life, his hum-drum job, his auditions, his apartment in Brooklyn that let in the pink-orange sun just right in the afternoon. He misses the way his sheets smelled, baking cookies in his kitchen, mundane shit like getting frustrated at the grocery store and going out with his friends for a cold beer, piano karaoke, singing Disney songs while he showered—he hasn’t sang for months. Sometimes he thinks he forgets how.</p>
<p>His hands shake on his last throw and Blaine straightens his shoulders, taking everything and <em>burying </em>it, shoveling it deep and covering it with dirt. He can’t afford to think that way, the past needs to stay where he’s put it.</p>
<p>“Why did you bring me here?” He asks, the tip of his boot manipulating more rocks into the pond and the taller slips his hands into his pockets, drawing his jacket closer around himself.</p>
<p>He fixes him with a soft look, like it should be obvious but…Blaine doesn’t get it, isn’t sure he wants to understand. Is too afraid.</p>
<p>“I wanted to show you something beautiful because sometimes it’s hard to picture things like this with the life we live now.”</p>
<p>Blaine bites down on the tip of his tongue hard enough to bleed, pushing away the involuntary reaction to tell Sebastian that beautiful things don’t exist anymore, that he’s wrong. Without him saying anything, Sebastian understands; he takes a step forward and cups his cheek—his thumb brushes along his cheekbone, a few fingers playing with loose curls that he can reach.</p>
<p>“I wanted to show you something as beautiful as you.”</p>
<p>He wants to back up out of his touch, to smack his hand away from his skin, to push him directly into the pond and walk back to collect his shit, to leave the ranch entirely.</p>
<p>Blaine does none of those things.</p>
<p>Instead, he leans up on his toes and kisses him—it’s too fast, too hard, too much tongue and teeth but Sebastian doesn’t pull away. Passionately, he gathers him into his touch and deepens the kiss, his hands beginning to remove layers. Blaine’s fingers work just as quickly as they sink onto the ground, neither of them stopping even when naked skin touches dirt.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>He can’t leave with this conversation unfinished, with words left unsaid, the world is too unpredictable for that. So he sits down on the edge of the bed, meeting Sebastian’s eyes through the mirror until the other turns to face him. He sets the washcloth down, “Lose me?” He sighs evenly, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”</p>
<p>“And you can’t promise that,” Blaine nearly snaps, his voice resembling breaking branches.</p>
<p>God, hasn’t he been through enough? He’s been so careful, depending on himself to get him through the worst of it—then he fucked up, he got sloppy, he ended up staying at a ranch and sleeping with someone who makes him <em>feel </em>like the world isn’t fucking ending.</p>
<p>Sebastian tilts his head, trying to catch his gaze, “Oh Blaine,” He says softly, almost contemplative, hearing all the words he isn’t saying.</p>
<p>He’s pretty sure he calls him an ‘idiot’ under his breath in French. He dips the washcloth in the water bin and wrings it out. Once he brings it over to him, he sets it on the side of Blaine’s neck.</p>
<p>“I think you might be the last good man I know.” Sebastian pauses a moment, “At the very least, the hottest.” A wet laugh slips out of Blaine, something he can’t stop, “I’m not about to let you go.”</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>He doesn’t see Sebastian for a few days, which is probably a good thing. He dives into work around the ranch—takes care of horses, milks cows, does weapon inventory, helps the breakfast crew cook, repairs a fence, anything to distract him from the fact that he can still feel Sebastian all over him.</p>
<p>Inside of him, reaching parts of Blaine that he thought were long gone and buried.</p>
<p>He works until his hands start to shake and someone actually has to tell him to take a break when the palms of his hands start bleeding from little tiny cuts, working the wood for the new fence too aggressively.</p>
<p>He sighs and makes his way down the dirt road to one of the refreshment tents, little kids running out and practically knocking into him. He smiles gently as he watches them go, taking a step inside and reaching for a mug to dunk into a bucket of water. Maybe by the time they grow up, the world won’t look the same…maybe it’ll be better.</p>
<p>It’s terrifying to hope for something like that though.</p>
<p>Blaine turns to go sit at a picnic table and nearly runs right into—</p>
<p>A soft sigh tumbles out of his mouth as he glances up at Sebastian, looking as handsome as ever. A pair of black work jeans and a blue t-shirt, scruff beginning to become more prominent on his jawline. One of his hands are on his waist, looking down at him like he’s taken the last cookie out of the jar when no one was looking.</p>
<p>“You’ve been avoiding me.”</p>
<p>It’s not a question and Blaine clears his throat, moving past him to straddle the bench at a picnic table, “Apparently I’m not doing a well enough job if you found me.”</p>
<p>Sebastian smiles a little, glancing out at the community before moving towards the table. He sits on top of it, his feet on the bench part, “This place isn’t that big. I would have ran into you eventually.”</p>
<p>He covers up his need to say anything by taking a few gulps of water from his mug, letting the cool sensation travel down his throat. He’s not sure what he wants him to say; it’s not like he’s embarrassed about what happened or that he’s some sort of closet gay but the fact is…he’s been living with Sebastian for months but doesn’t really know a lot about him. He’s usually not the person who has casual sex, the act <em>means</em> something to him.</p>
<p>This isn’t who he’d be if the world was right side up—though maybe he <em>should </em>change as everything else does. Enjoying sex with a random guy who’s been kind to him, who shared his home and food and protection…that doesn’t make Blaine a bad person.</p>
<p>On the other hand, getting involved doesn’t sound like the best idea either. He’ll just end up having to kill another boy he’s fallen in love with by stabbing him through the eye.</p>
<p>“Are you thinking about the pond?” Sebastian asks after a moment, tilting his head to try and catch his gaze.</p>
<p>Blaine glances up at him, turning the mug on the picnic table. “I don’t think…you and me, it shouldn’t have happened.”</p>
<p>“But it did.” He smiles a little, rubbing his hands together as he watches a few kids running in the distance, playing with a soccer ball as the rest of the community goes about their day. “Is this rejection? Gotta say, I’m not used to it.”</p>
<p>Blaine smirks, scrunching his nose, “First time for everything.”</p>
<p>Sebastian hums and moves to stand, brushing his hands off on his jeans. “Do you regret it?”</p>
<p>He brings the mug to his lips, his eyes traveling over the long lines of Sebastian’s body. He contemplates the question that seems so simple on the surface, a word instantly on the tip of his tongue because,</p>
<p>“No,” He says after a moment, because he doesn’t regret it.</p>
<p>He just worries that at one point he might.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Blaine shakes his head, emotion clogging his throat as he looks away. <em>A good man? The last one?</em> The taller drags the washcloth along his skin, a draft in the loft cooling the wetness left behind, making him shiver.</p>
<p>It’s hard to talk, the words getting stuck as he says, “You couldn’t be more wrong. I’ve done terrible things that I can’t take back.” He glances up at him, Sebastian sinking in-between his knees as he removes the washcloth from his neck.</p>
<p>He rests his hands on Blaine’s thighs as a few silent tears slip down his cheeks. Sebastian sighs and presses their foreheads together, tilting his chin up into a kiss.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>It’s only a matter of time for things to fall apart, because nowhere is safe from bad shit happening—especially now.</p>
<p>It’s a freak accident, something that no one is expecting in the middle of night because they have the security of fences and people guard the barricades at all hours in reasonable shifts. Everyone holds a weapon.</p>
<p>But no one thinks about something happening <em>within </em>the walls, a domino effect that starts to unravel the community. A scream wakes Blaine up in the middle of the night and it takes him ten seconds to put his boots on and run outside, trying to understand the source; it’s coming from people’s tents, from the RVs set up near the refreshment stations.</p>
<p>He runs towards it, which is somehow ironic in the back of his mind, because everything in his body is telling him to sprint in the opposite direction.</p>
<p>He hears the tale-tell signs before he sees anything; the gurgling growls, the moaning, the crying—and then it all assaults his vision before he can look away. The dead are here, within the ranch, running amok and thrashing, <em>biting—</em></p>
<p>Blaine fights off as many as he can reach, trying not to think about if there’s a herd somewhere leaking through a hole in their defenses, if this is how it all ends. Others come to his aid, people with guns who fire off rounds and random community members who remember how to defend themselves with obscure found items. He tears one of them off a woman who’s screaming on the ground and stabs it right through the head, the sickening crunch satisfying in ways he doesn’t want to talk about.</p>
<p>He helps her off the ground, “Go, run.” He tells her and she sprints, he’s not sure where.</p>
<p>There’s a mess of bodies on the ground, both undead and freshly dead, skin a mess of open wounds and bite marks, the look of terror still in glassy eyes. He turns towards another sound but is tackled to the ground, his knife splaying away from him.</p>
<p>He groans as one of them leans over him, mouth chomping like a mouse trap snapping closed. Blaine attempts to hit it with his fists as best he can, looking over his shoulder for where his knife has gone—fingers barely brushing over the blade—</p>
<p>He has to grab it that way, yelling as he cuts his palm but it’s worth it because the moment he has a good grip, he turns the knife and stabs it straight through the temple. The thing collapses on him, Blaine quickly working his way out from underneath it.</p>
<p>“You good, curls?” Santana asks as she approaches him, offering a hand to help him up.</p>
<p>He groans and takes her up on it, standing, “Yeah.” He looks around as the noise begins to die down—and maybe that’s the worst of it, maybe they’ve taken care of whatever— “What happened? Do you know?”</p>
<p>Sebastian approaches them, cleaning his own knife in his hands with a rolled-up shirt that he tosses aside. “All the fences are fine. The men on duty didn’t see anything, this was inside.”</p>
<p>Santana sighs, running a hand through her long hair to get it out of her face. He’s so used to seeing it up in some way; this definitely disturbed all of them sleeping. “So what? Someone just dropped dead and it caused a chain reaction?”</p>
<p>Blaine chews on the inside of his cheek, not wanting to say anything—it seems hard to find so much tragedy tied to a stupid happenstance. This is what he’s always thinking about though, of it not taking much to tip the scales, that it takes literally <em>nothing </em>for something to be ruined.</p>
<p>“We won’t know until daylight,” Sebastian sounds tired, glancing around for a moment, trying to triage what needs to be done with a mental checklist. He looks to Blaine, “We’ll bury the dead in the morning. Right now, find anyone who’s hurt and bring them to the medical tent.”</p>
<p>Santana pulls her hair back into a ponytail, “I’ll make the rounds, check the bodies. We don’t want a second round of reanimation.”</p>
<p>Sebastian nods as she takes off, Blaine glancing up at him as he walks towards the tents and RVs to help who he can. As he assists people to the medical tent, Sebastian and a few others dressing wounds, he finds himself contemplating how he’s managed to become someone that’s depended on. He’s inner circle, his opinion matters, Sebastian trusts him to carry out tasks for the betterment of the ranch.</p>
<p>This is not where Blaine thought he’d end up.</p>
<p>He sits down in the medical tent, watching Sebastian tend to a few people he’s brought in. He grabs gauze from a shelf and presses it against his hand, wincing a little and lifts his gaze when he hears a woman wailing.</p>
<p>It’s about one of the little kids he’s seen running around the refreshment tent with a soccer ball—Blaine tries to avert his eyes but it’s like something on fire and he can’t stay away from the warmth of the flame. A boy not much older than ten, gashes and torn skin, jagged jigsaw flesh, Sebastian trying to tell her that there’s nothing else he can do—</p>
<p>He looks down at his hand and presses harder into his palm than necessary, the pain circulating up his arm.</p>
<p>Blaine doesn’t know how long he sits there before Sebastian stands in front of him but he doesn’t realize he’s speaking until he touches his shoulder. He looks up and blinks, “What?”</p>
<p>“You’re hurt.” He says softly and motions to his hand.</p>
<p>“Oh,” He swallows, shrugging the touch off his shoulder. “It’s fine.”</p>
<p>Sebastian chews on his lower lip before he glances behind his shoulder, at a few others working to keep people who are hurt comfortable. “I got more antiseptic in my loft, come on, let’s go take care of that.”</p>
<p>And Blaine finds that he’s too exhausted to argue, his bones hanging like they’re on a string as he stands and walks out of the tent. He takes the steps he knows well to the barn holding Sebastian’s loft, feet somehow weighted with cinder blocks as he climbs the steps. He sighs and sheds off his jacket, kicking off his boots near a bookcase before sitting down on the edge of Sebastian’s bed.</p>
<p>The taller is quiet as he mills around his loft, filling a bowl with water from a bucket, gathering up gauze, antiseptic and bandages to set down next to where Blaine’s sitting. He looks down at the angry red line of the cut on his palm and thinks about how it barely hurts, how this isn’t anything compared to what that mother felt when she heard her son was gone.</p>
<p>He closes his eyes for a moment and tries to shake the sound of her voice from his head, not opening them again until he feels Sebastian kneel in front of him. He takes his hand, cleaning the cut with water and a washcloth before putting antiseptic on gauze. His touch is gentle and Blaine almost wishes it were bruising, like it was near the pond that day, fingers digging into his hips to pull him closer.</p>
<p>He swallows, emotion creating a lump in his throat. “It’s always going to be like this, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>Sebastian glances up at him, patient green, “Like what?”</p>
<p>Blaine sighs, his voice shaky even though he tries to ground himself. Can he really not see it? Or is it that he just doesn’t want to. He winces when Sebastian presses against the part of his wound near his thumb, the taller mumbling an apology. His thumb works a careful circle against his wrist, feeling his pulse point, proof that he’s still alive.</p>
<p>But is he?</p>
<p>He clears his throat, running his other hand through his curls, “Like we’re in the eye of a hurricane, calm before the storm? Just waiting for the next bad thing to happen.”</p>
<p>Sebastian lets out a slow breath, putting a small bandage on his hand before pulling his own back. He misses the heat of his touch when he stands to clean up, keeping himself busy so that he doesn’t have to respond to Blaine right away. He then turns and leans against one of his dressers, crossing his arms over his chest,</p>
<p>“You can’t think that way.”</p>
<p>He scoffs, sniffling as he looks down at his hands; they’ve started to shake. “Why not?” He asks, his voice breaking because really, <em>why not? </em>Blaine stands quickly, intent on grabbing his things and leaving because he’s starting to feel suffocated from his own emotions.</p>
<p>Sebastian gently reaches for him, closing the distance, a soft <em>shushing </em>noise leaving his lips as his hands trace down his arms and rest on his biceps. He pulls on his elbows, trying to get him to lean into his chest but Blaine resists. He instead repeats the same question, knowing he really won’t get an answer, Sebastian reaching up to cup his cheek and remove tears working their way down.</p>
<p>And when did <em>that </em>happen? When did he start crying? He didn’t think he was capable of that anymore.</p>
<p>Sebastian presses their foreheads together and Blaine isn’t strong enough this time to pull away, tipping his chin up instead to kiss him. Sebastian makes a soft noise against him, his arms wrapping around his waist. Blaine’s hands may be shaking but he makes quick work at removing layers between them, the taller backing him up until he lays down on his bed.</p>
<p>There’s this little voice inside his head that says the word <em>control </em>over and over but he’s not sure what it even means, whether he’s lacking it or needs to be <em>put </em>into it. Sebastian’s hands are warm and insistent, Blaine’s a little desperate and grabbing, yanking, anything to get him closer.</p>
<p>Their lips rarely leave the other’s, impatient panting, heated kisses, soft moans exchanged, breathing the same air.</p>
<p>This time, Blaine makes quick work of opening Sebastian’s body up with his fingers, slipping inside when they’re both ready. Their frames overlap, Blaine resting overtop of Sebastian’s back, rocking together in an insistent motion that reminds him of waves crashing onto a shore over and over. He has his mouth on his shoulder at one point, grazing over his collarbone, whispering promises he wants to keep but knowing he can’t.</p>
<p>It doesn’t take long for either of them to fall apart, Blaine reaching underneath Sebastian’s body for his cock, stroking him in long languid motions with his thumb brushing over the head. The noises he makes are something Blaine will commit to memory to distract him from the sounds of death that live in his skull.</p>
<p>His entire body shudders when he cums, sending Blaine over the edge just as he pulls out. Sebastian turns to kiss him, both of his hands cupping the sides of his throat as they lie down in bed together.</p>
<p>Neither of them moves for a long time.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Sebastian pulls back to press a kiss against his upper lip, the bridge of his nose and finally his forehead. Cupping his cheek, he removes the line of a tear track with his thumb. He then takes Blaine’s hand as he stands from the bed, handing him his jacket, “I’m not wrong. Everyone’s done something that they’re not proud of; you’re not a bad person just because you’ve done a few bad things. You just need someone to keep reminding you about that.”</p>
<p>Blaine holds his gaze for a moment, slipping his jacket on. He’s glad that Sebastian seems to know who he is…because he’s not so sure anymore. “And that’s you?”</p>
<p>The taller runs his hand through his curls, tucking one behind his ear as he leans forward and kisses the corner of his mouth. “If you let me.”</p>
<p>Blaine’s worked so hard at tensing up, at not allowing himself to be overwhelmed, at being on guard at all times—he forgets what it feels like to just <em>let go. </em>To let his emotions consume him, swallow him whole, to <em>feel. </em>To leave the center of a hurricane and embrace the destruction. And maybe he needs to do just that.</p>
<p>“You better get to breakfast duty; I’d hate for people to start complaining to me that you’re showing up tardy.” He thumbs at the smile on the corner of Blaine’s mouth, “That’d be favoritism.”</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>His hand hurts for days after the incident but part of him thinks it has everything to do with phantom pain—when he takes a look at the cut, it’s healing nicely, no red angry line or pus to somehow convince him that it’s infected.</p>
<p>According to brief conversations he’s had with Santana, their suspicions about someone dying in the middle of the night had been in the right direction. They’re pretty sure it was Mick because their wife said he was complaining of chest pains earlier in the day—he must have had a heart attack and reanimation took over from there.</p>
<p>A fluke, a mistake, something that had nothing to do with how well prepared they are or how guarded their fences were. That fact sits with Blaine a long time, that it doesn’t take much for everything he knows to go up in smoke—just like his apartment in Brooklyn, just like Kurt.</p>
<p>He closes his eyes a moment, rubbing his temples with his middle finger and thumb. He knows its careless to expect anything different, to hope, but part of him isn’t sure he can handle any more loss.</p>
<p>“You’re gonna burn the potatoes.”</p>
<p>Blaine looks up at the voice from his spot in the kitchen, quickly adapting to what’s in front of him by grabbing a wooden spoon and churning the mashed potatoes. Oops. He clears his throat and watches as Sebastian wanders over to the stove, glancing inside the pot before leaning against a nearby cabinet.</p>
<p>“Probably could use more butter.”</p>
<p>“Can always use more butter,” Blaine admits before throwing another two tablespoons in and stirring quietly, eyes flickering up at Sebastian as he turns the fire on low. Last thing he wants to do is waste food because he can’t pay attention to what he’s doing.</p>
<p>Then again, Sebastian has always been very distracting.</p>
<p>“You have a headache?” Sebastian asks, the concern in his voice reaching into his stomach and squeezing.</p>
<p>Blaine offers him a soft smile, “It’s just stress. I’m alright.” Sebastian grabs a nearby apple and studies it for a moment, taking a bite. “I’m going to have to mark that in the inventory.”</p>
<p>He smirks, licking juice from his lips, “I know the guy in charge, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He offers the apple to him and Blaine takes it, turning the fruit to take a bite himself. He hums softly, the familiarity a comforting taste in his mouth.</p>
<p>They’re quiet for a few moments, Blaine tending to potatoes before he turns the fire off and dishes them into a bowl, setting them on a table nearby to take out to the refreshment tent for dinner. He brushes his hands off his jeans and sighs, glancing at Sebastian who’s finishing off the apple.</p>
<p>The way his lips linger on the fruit, the way he licks juice from the corner of his mouth…doesn’t leave much to the imagination. He averts his gaze, reaching for a bottle of water nearby to take a few sips.</p>
<p>“Am I ever going to wake up in bed with you still in it?” Sebastian asks after a moment and Blaine nearly chokes on the water in his mouth. He clears his throat and blinks at him; Sebastian pursing his lips because the question isn’t difficult. “Any night you spend in my bed, you’re gone before the sun is up. I’m starting to develop a complex.”</p>
<p>“I just thought it,” Blaine flounders; he wasn’t expecting this conversation and doesn’t know exactly what to say, “was easier that way? There’s no confusion about…what this is.” He motions between them.</p>
<p>Sebastian narrows his eyes, amusement pulling at his lips as he saves the apple core to feed a horse. “And what is this?”</p>
<p>Now he’s just fucking with him, wanting to watch him squirm. “We’re friends.” He blanks on the rest of his sentence, Sebastian letting out a soft laugh that makes his ears hurt.</p>
<p>“Sure, okay,” He takes a step closer to him, encroaching on his space. Blaine doesn’t move, grounds his heels into the floor as he’s forced to look up into Sebastian’s green eyes. It reminds him of the moss from the pond, the heat of his body seeping through the fabric of his clothes, the scent of his skin mixed with soap almost surrounding him.</p>
<p>“Let me know if that's still what you think after a few days.” He says, mimicking some of the very first words he said to him when he woke up on this ranch.</p>
<p>Blaine swallows and feels incredibly too empty when he’s gone.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>He puts his plate down on one of the picnic benches, digging into the bacon and eggs. Despite that he likes to cook breakfast, he’s never been that good at it. One of the things about breakfast duty is that he can pick whether he makes the food or helps serve it and he always chooses the latter if he can. A woman named Marie makes the <em>best </em>eggs he’s ever had and he eats them a little too greedily, scooping up a tomato cheese salad with a piece of toast afterwards.</p>
<p>Blaine leans back, taking a look at the rest of the community enjoying their own breakfast—there’s smiles, laughing even, teasing between members as they serve one another more coffee, offer napkins, clean up plates when they’re finished.</p>
<p>Santana sits down across from him, stealing his spoon because she forgot her own to eat a bowl of oatmeal. Sebastian sits down next to him with an extra cup of juice, a gentle smile on his lips as he leans over and presses a kiss to Blaine’s temple.</p>
<p>And he lets him.</p>
<p>It’s moments like this he knows he’s in the eye of the storm again, waiting, but…the normalcy sometimes eliminates the worried fear that clings to the bottom of his stomach at the thought. Sebastian’s right, he can’t think like that—or he’ll never truly live.</p>
<p>Blaine’s one hand slips under the table, finding the other’s to lace their fingers together. A soft smile tilts at the corners of his mouth as Sebastian continues to tease Santana about her terrible aim with the latest shooting practice. She looks like she’s about to jump over the table and attack Sebastian with her spoon and piece of toast and Blaine <em>laughs, </em>squeezing Sebastian’s hand.</p>
<p>This is not who Blaine thought he'd be, the world has changed him, but for once he's happy that he's allowed it to.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you so much for reading, kudos and comments! i really enjoyed this entry the most for seblaine week and am really proud of this fic :3 i'm over at blainesebastian on tumblr if you want to stop by!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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